The Bathroom Window
by Dismay Dot
Summary: So, this is Myrtle's story. It's a one shot, somewhat strange, and not that great 'cause I wrote it a while ago. Rated for language. R


**Author's Note: there was some confusion, but I really don't want to change the story, so just to clarify, the stuff in italics is what's happening outside of the bathroom stall.**

**Enjoy!**

The Bathroom Window

"Everyone has a something comforting in their life. For some, it's a bed or bedroom, where all of their stuff is, where everything is familiar, happy, reassuring, soothing. For some it's with friend or a loved one, people that can bring about those same feelings. For some it's a diary or a storybook, filled with tales of far away places or just the owner's heart.

"I, however, am not like any of these people. Yes, I have a place, but not one that anyone would guess from just looking at my face.

"Mine is a bathroom.

"And before a single crude joke comes out of your mouth, no, I don't mean that I like the toilet or the smell or the lack of cleanliness. No, there's a different reason.

"What is a bathroom? A bunch of toilets and sinks? No, that's what _makes_ a bathroom. What is a bathroom is a private sanctuary.

"Think about it. What place is more private than a bathroom?

"However private a bathroom is, there's another reason I picked a bathroom for my special place. The first time I was teased for doing something stupid, I can still remember everyone laughing as the spell literally blew up in my face, I ran to the place where most people go when crying: the bathroom.

"It was inside the stall that most of my tears were shed and it was the same place that they stopped falling. Then, with my eyes still blurry, I noticed the window.

"It was a large window, with a ledge about eight inches underneath it. The window, as all windows in bathroom should be, was foggy, despite the fact that the day outside was as clear as could be. Combined with the lack of glasses that happened when the tears need swiping away and the puffiness of my eyes from the crying, I couldn't see much through the bathroom window. It was wonderful. I didn't see people enjoying themselves, playfully teasing one another while I bawled my heart out. No, the only thing that I could place through the blurriness of my vision was the sun.

"The sun was bright through the window, making the whole thing white. While looking there, I couldn't help but think that it was pure, holy, somehow. I used my mind to find a way to fit it with my situation. That was me, always butchering things until I could find a meaning that would be insightful. But, this time, I didn't have to search very long.

"The blurry vision blurred my life. Everything bad, everything mean, everything hurtful – it all just went away. How? Just like in the children's song: _out came the sun and it dried up all the rain._ This metaphorical rain, in my opinion, had been my tears.

"Thinking this through, I couldn't see any failings in my logic. I climbed onto the windowsill after casting a quick cleaning charm, and rested with my back against the wall and my glasses in my lap. I had found my special place at last.

"And I needed this special place more than most. I was constantly teased. 'Four-eyes!' 'Teacher's pet!' 'Stupid!' 'Idiot!' 'Dumbie!' 'Loser!' I sometimes wonder why I was hated so much. I wasn't deformed or fat or stupid. I was never mean to anyone. I suppose, I was a bit different, never liking the fads that everyone was so crazed about. Did that give them the right to hate me?

"Eventually I needed to come to my special place once a week. There were bathrooms all over the school that had windows, but that didn't matter to me. This was my bathroom. The others just weren't special.

"However, considering how large the school was, using only one bathroom was somewhat problematic. Well, if I really had to go, then I would use the closest one to me. But, if I needed a good cry, I would go halfway across the school to get to my bathroom, and then backtrack to get to class. Despite being a bright witch, I was almost always late. The professors never ceased scolding me, much to the eagerness of my classmates. 'Miss Mellis, why can't you ever be early for a change?' 'Another detention, Mellis. My office, tonight, eight o'clock.' 'Why can't you just arrive with your friends, Miss Mellis?' Like they couldn't tell that I didn't have any friends.

"The good part was I was no longer called teacher's pet. The bad parts were the anger of the professors and the new name dimwit, to fill the gap of teacher's pet.

"Life was hard. I won't deny it. But all and all that bathroom pulled me through. I guess it was only fitting that it was named after me. The called it Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I always thought it was funny because I didn't moan, I cried. It was obvious that my peers simply wanted a little bit of alliteration. I thought that they should have added my last name. Moaning Myrtle Mellis's bathroom. And, they could have substituted something for bathroom too. The only problem was, the only name for a bathroom that I could think of that started with an "M" was "men's room". And my classmates were too afraid of teachers to use that. Either that or they weren't bright enough to figure it out themselves.

"In second year, came the worst and final day of my life. All the constant teasing, approaching exams, and getting my period all poured down on me one particular day. It's funny how you don't really remember dates from the most important times of you life—or death. No one can remember thinking, _okay, today's August 22__nd__ and I was born today_. Just like that, when the last of my life drained from me, I didn't think, _well, it's May 27__th__ and I'm dying._ No one would ever think that.

"However, I did die on May 27th, a fact I only remember because I had been told afterwards, while floating around. On that particular May 27th, I was in my special spot again. My eyes were streaming, my nose was running, my glasses were off and I was staring through the foggy window. That day was an overcast day. Those days were always the worst.

"I didn't remember why I was in the bathroom until Olive Hornby herself came up to me in tears, telling just how sorry she was and how it was all her fault. She told me how her teasing had been the cause of my trip to the bathroom.

"I remember the unique qualities of the day. I didn't remember why I was crying in the bathroom because this was almost a daily occurrence. I didn't remember the date because every day has a date. I did remember that the sky was too cloudy to see the sun. I felt like nothing would ever comfort me again, like there was no heat in the world that could dry my tears. And then I remember the most unusual part of the whole experience. I heard a male voice.

"That bathroom was my sanctuary. Most of the girls either avoided it because of me, or if they were my tormentors, would specially use that bathroom just to get a chance to make fun of me. Never before had a male entered. As I was in this incredibly lowly state, a male voice was tarnishing this protective area, and I wasn't about to stand for it. Not then, when I was already so emotionally tired.

"I yanked the door to my stall open, eyes glaring, determined to win the glowering contest that was sure to follow. I lost hopelessly. I lost the battle. I lost my life. I was a loser, just as my torturers had always told me.

"Dying was quite an experience. Not something I can explain though. It just feels… otherworldly.

"After dying, I could feel things normally once more. I felt my soul being to spiral away. I saw my body collapse. That wasn't supposed to happen. I wanted so badly for everything to stop. I wanted to be crying because of Olive Hornby's hurtful words once more. _I wasn't ready to leave_.

"It was that determination that kept me from traveling on to the spiritual world. How this moment of my, well, not life, but being worked, I was never certain. But I had enough evidence by witnessing it myself to venture a guess.

"Before I was killed, I was mad to no end at Olive Hornby. My emotions were haywire. I contained a few too many emotions and by wrenching open the door to the stall, I took that bottle of emotions, already shaken up, and undid the lid. I spilled out everywhere. I was too filled with human emotions to move on. I still think to this day that if I can just get a grip on my feelings, then I can leave. But, as with everything, there's a catch. I've been dead for over two score years. If I was alive for all those years, I would be a mature being able to let all this behind me. However, I hadn't matured. I was still that twelve-year-old girl. I couldn't get past those feelings of hatred for Olive Hornby.

"When Harry Potter came in asking me about my death, I told him that I could remember two red eyes. I can remember them. But, I can't picture them. I can picture most of the day, but not the eyes. Once again, I think I have an explanation.

"I am currently an emotional wreck for all of my days. Every moment that I am, I'm inches from tears. This feeling is what I was feeling right before I opened the stall door. I could picture these feelings in my mind. I could picture that part of my death. In order to move on to the spiritual world, I needed to be able to visualize the red eyes.

"Another pearl of wisdom: when Harry Potter came to get the events following my death, he used this knowledge to defeat the very thing that killed me. Harry Potter half-avenged my death. I still needed to clear up the conflict with Olive Hornby, but half of the problem is gone. He avenged the actual dying, so I no longer remember the eyes. I haven't evened the score with Olive Hornby, so I still act like a sad, teary, twelve-year-old.

"So, after thoroughly confusing you, do you know why you were brought here today?"

"Olive. Olive was my mother's name."

"Yes, and all I want to do is move on. My parents have moved on by now and they're the only ones who _really_ cared about me. So, I brought you here to come to terms with my anger."

"But, how will you do that? I mean, I'm not my mother. Are… are you going to kill me?"

"No, I'm not going to kill you. We wouldn't want another ghost to take my place. No, I think, to start I'll need an apology. But you must be truly sorry for your mother's mistake. Think of the situation that she must have been in after I died. Put yourself in that position."

"Well, if I had just teased a girl for two years straight… and then _I_ was the one to yell at her last before she died… and then to have that girl be a ghost for over forty years because of me…"

"Don't cry. Please don't cry. If you cry then I'll start to cry."

"I… _I'm so sorry_! I don't know what kind of hell that you must have gone through, but it was my mother's fault. And now it's my – hic – fault… how can you stand to be in the same room as me?"

"Listen, Adelaide, you can't blame yourself. I showed you how it was my fault. Please, just believe me. Please calm down."

"I'm not even crying anymore."

"Then who is?"

"_Stop! No! I can't – please, no – JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"_

"_Retard! Dip shit! Get the hell out of this school – you're too stupid for it._"

"Where are you going, Adelaide?"

"To put a stop to this."

"_Please, please, just stop. I don't want any of this. Just, please, please, leave me alone…"_

"_Why would we leave you alone, you crazy assed fr—"_

"_Stop. Right now. She didn't do anything to you. Nothing at all. Just leave."_

"_Addie, why are you taking her side? I thought we all agreed that she was just a stupid who—"_

"_If you finish that sentence then I will hex you until you can't even remember your own name."_

"_God, you're such a party pooper. Let's go girls."_

"_Are you all right?"_

"_Yes… I'm fine… thank you … um… for standing up for me…"_

"_It was something I should have done long ago."_

As I sat on the windowsill, I glanced out the window. Tears reached my eyes. I squinted. I could see the sun through the foggy glass. But, this wasn't just the sun. This sun had the warmth of a mother's love and a father's protection with every ray. And these rays didn't just go through me. No, these rays made me feel alive again. I started to drift out of the window.

"Thank you, Adelaide. Thank you."


End file.
